Mistaken Reflection
by JadeHeart
Summary: Innocent Venus - I thought I saw everything so clearly. I realise I saw nothing at it truly was. Jin’s POV


**Title**: Mistaken Reflection

**Author:** JadeHeart  
**Fandom:** Innocent Venus (anime)

**Rating**: PG  
**Warnings/Spoilers:** For entire series

**Summary**: I thought I saw everything so clearly. I realise I saw nothing at it truly was. (Jin's POV)

**Disclaimer: **I do not own the characters in this; they belong to the creator of 'Innocent Venus.

-oOo-

I hated you. I said I hated you. I told you I hated you.

I lied.

I don't hate you.

We first met on the battlefield so long ago, amongst the wounded and dead; two weary and worn soldiers.

It had been sheer chance that found us both there at that time. Under different circumstances we might never have met. If I had walked another route; been assigned to a different unit, so many things could have changed that moment. Instead I walked past and tripped over you.

I turned to speak to you then; a curse, a word of caution, I no longer remember exactly what I had intended to say. All I can remember is your eye; eyes that were as black as the deepest depths of space and as clear as a mirror.

At that moment it seemed like my prayers had finally been answered, the gracious gods sending me this gift; you, the perfect soldier for my purposes. I recall when our eyes met that first time I thought they looked…empty. I assumed then that they reflected yourself, that you too were empty inside, nothing but a shell; an empty shell waiting to be filled with a purpose, my purpose. I thought that because when I looked into your eyes, all I saw was myself. A perfect, clear reflection of my face looking back at me.

I didn't understand then why that was. I took it as a sign that I could mould you to exactly what I wanted, whatever that might be. To make you into a mirror image of myself to serve my purpose. I didn't realize back then that why I could see myself reflected in your eyes was that you were the only person who really looked at me. Not me as the son of the ruined politician, or the me of the family who had lost everything. Just me, the me then and there standing before you; dirty, jaded, cynical, loathing myself and hating everyone else. The me striving to be better, the me wanting more, always reaching further, grasping at that dream, desiring it with a burning passion that consumed me completely beyond everything.

Back then, I couldn't understand any of that. I simply thought you would be the perfect tool, just left lying there waiting for me to pick up.

And you were perfect.

You followed me. You listened to me and all I had planned. You believed all I told you, never giving a single sign of doubt as to my motives. Right to the end you believed in me. Why? What made you believe so steadfastly even after I had tried to kill you?

Or did I?

Did I really try to kill you? The knife missed all your vitals. I was trained to kill, I was skilled to do so, very skilled. I couldn't just miss, not at such close quarters, not when my intended victim was so completely unsuspecting, not even fighting back. I could never have missed like that.

So did I miss deliberately? Did a part of me not wish to kill you at that moment even though I was convinced in my mind that I did? Did you know that? Is that why you didn't fight back? Is that why you let me come so close to you, to take you in my embrace?

I could feel your body pressed against mine; your body heat even through the body suit. You were so warm. The knife slid in so easily, slicing through flesh, muscle and sinew with no more than the slightest resistance. Your blood coated the blade, deep bright red against the sleek silver. It looked beautiful. Even then you didn't raise your hand to me, not even a word of reproach.

I said once to you that we feel pain because of our ambitions. That is so very true; for both of us. You were in pain also, although I wouldn't acknowledge it. I believed my pain was far greater than any you bore; my pain was worth more than yours. Arrogant of me I know. My pain came from my ambition to rise above all that had happened with my family, all that I had had to bear due to their disgrace. My ambition was to rise to a position of power where no-one could ever tear me down; no, not even think about tearing me down. For that ambition I would bear any pain, that inflicted by others, and that inflicted by myself.

But your ambition was different to mine. Over time I came to realize that you weren't just looking at me at all; you were always looking inwards or beyond what was before us. You were always seeing so much more than what I did, yet at the same time you didn't see what was right in front of you. Your vision was of a better world; I just wanted my world, made in my image, made for me. In my world, I forgot to make room for others. I believed I didn't need anyone else unless they were useful in achieving my goals. You saw a bright new future that could be achieved. I saw only my own dawn.

You were always a paradox, an enigma. Both to me and to our enemies, perhaps even to yourself. How could you have melded with the Gladiator so easily without the limiter? It is a horrific experience; overwhelming, swallowing you whole, consuming every part of your soul. How could you do it? How could you bear it? What power do you have?

I thought we were the same, which is why we were one of the chosen few to pilot the Gladiators. We were always told that we could do so because we don't feel any fear. It would be even better if we couldn't feel any emotions at all; emotions clouded judgment and control. I know I didn't feel any fear when I climbed into the cockpit. I had worked all my life to cut off such interfering emotions; fear, love, grief, all those unnecessary things. That was why I could pilot the Gladiator, why I was one of the best.

You, on the other hand, always had a weakness. I knew that you shed tears every time you fought. That should have held you back, made you a lesser pilot than myself. So why couldn't I meld with the Gladiator? What's the difference between us?

When I took the limiter out you tried to stop me from losing myself. I thought you just wanted to hold me back, stop me becoming more, better. I thought you were trying to show you were superior to me, better than me. I thought you were trying to put me down, something everyone had done all my life. So I didn't listen.

And I lost – lost everything.

There in the cockpit of the Gladiator, the familiar controls within my hands, the familiar patterns followed automatically, I felt the initial surge of power as I went beyond the level of the limiter. It was like nothing I had ever felt before; the power flowing through my veins, the speed, the exhilaration, far beyond the usual rush of adrenalin. This power I was feeling was something completely different, completely new and wonderful. I felt invincible, like I could do anything. It was truly incredible.

Then the euphoria swiftly turned to terror. The flush of power turned to the ghostly forms of children; deformed, demonized shapes reaching out to me, insubstantial grasping hands clawing at my flesh, long fingers sliding under my skin, digging into my mind, creeping all over me - all over like thousands of tiny insects invading every part of my being.

Yet through it all, even as I was being swept away, I could hear you calling me; calling my name.

I didn't feel you pull me from the Gladiator, didn't know I was outside. Your voice was distant, I could barely hear you. But I could feel you at my side. You had been at my side for so long now. When had I become used to your presence there? I had felt its lack like missing a limb towards the end. I had thought I had done the right thing, removing what was no longer of use, slicing you from me cleanly with one stroke. Instead it had felt like I had amputated a part of myself. That was not how it was supposed to be.

Even so, you still returned to me; now, when I needed you. You were always there to protect me when I needed you. You never failed me. For a moment my mind returned to full clarity as I stood there in the smoking wreckage. You were before me, looking the same as you always had, your face concerned, your eyes staring directly at me, seeing me.

Then I fell; fell back into the darkness. I tried to escape those touches, push them away, evade them. I thought I could but they were already a part of me; inside me, swirling around in my head, ripping my mind apart. I could feel them, those long forgotten children; their anger, their hate, their pain, oh, the pain. Is that truly what those children felt? It was unbearable, truly unbearable. It was too much for any human to bear. I couldn't bear it.

You held me then, cradled me in your arms, calling out to me as I was being pulled away on the currents of madness. I can see your face above me; worried, eyes clear and looking directly at me. I can feel your cheek warm beneath my hand even through my gloves as I reach up to touch your face. You were always warm, like a fire on a cold night, pleasant, comfortable, necessary.

"Stay with me!"

Why did you say that? Why did you try so hard to hold onto me? Why did you call my name over and over again? Why did you still want me after all that I had done to you and others - the betrayal, the destruction? Why did you still care?

No, I don't hate you. I never hated you.

I gaze up at your face, seeing myself reflected in your eyes once more. I feel at peace for the first time I can remember and smile for I finally understood. The reason I could see my reflection in your eyes was not because you were the mirror image of myself. It was because in your eyes you saw all that I could have been.

I finally understood that all this time, Jo, I had wanted to be your reflection.

~End~


End file.
